I'm Just All Nerve
by Fiyeraaron
Summary: In which Combeferre diagnoses Enjolras.


Combeferre had known Enjolras for a long time. He'd been with him when he first overruled his parents, claiming that 'he was eleven now, he could stay out past seven o'clock'. He had been there when he had dismissed his first female caller, watched as his blond friend shook his head and looked determinedly at the road. He had been there when he had left his parents, when he had chosen to lead a different life from what they were forcing upon him.

There was no doubt that they were best friends. He knew things about Enjolras that nobody else could even dream about knowing, intricate things that seem little but show so much about his friend's personality. Enjolras is a very independent person, but there are times when he needs support. Just before a speech, when Enjolras is stepping onto the stage, he always discreetly looks at Combeferre and waits for the small nod and smile he needs, before he steels himself, gets a determined look in his blue eyes, and sets off to recruit people.

He knows Enjolras hates to think of himself in need of any help, no, he's way too proud and proper for that. So when Combeferre sees his friend in any type of vulnerability or in need of comfort, he tries to give his encouragement or opinion subtly, without clearly stating that he noticed that Enjolras was looking a bit low.

So it's safe to say that Combeferre knows almost all there is to know about their faithful leader. Well, all that he could possible know. There are times when Enjolras acts totally out of the ordinary, completely contradicting any persona Combeferre ever thought his friend owned.

For example, earlier today. Enjolras and him had been walking through the streets of Paris, absentmindedly observing people's day-to-day activities and leisurely making their way to the Musain. There was no rush, their meeting did not start for at least half an hour, and even Enjolras didn't want to be there too early.

He had been watching a young boy playing with his friends, obviously trying to tag them, running in and out of people's pathways. It almost looked like a catastrophe waiting to happen, as the small boy dodged the heavy feet of bourgeois men. The boy ran past a wall, narrowly skimming past the hard brick when Combeferre was brought to attention of something quite peculiar, and his curiousness peaked. He could see a young girl, no more than seventeen, being pressed into a wall by a tall and lean man. The man was dressed in bourgeois clothes, but they were too ragged and dirty to be cleaned and pressed. His arms were closed in around the girl, but the man's dark blue top hat was shielding her face from view. They seemed to be having a serious conversation, as the man's head was stopped low and he was making little movements.

Combeferre tried to get a clear view of the girl, but there were too many people in the road to simply move around and get a clear view. He was tall, but not tall enough to see over the many hats covering people's heads. It was excruciatingly warm, he didn't know how people were surviving with such clothes and unneeded accessories on. He stooped to the side and saw a glimpse of brown hair adorning the short girl's head. It looked matted and messy and Combeferre wondered when it had last been washed or brushed. He moved his head to the other side, but still couldn't see her face.

Seeing that they were almost past the couple, Combeferre slowed down his walk, not diverting his eyes away from the curious exchange he was watching. He didn't attempt to alert Enjolras to his slowing of pace and came to a complete stop as he finally got a clear view of the girl.

He could swear he knew her. He had seen those ratty clothes and those deep brown eyes before somewhere. He could vaguely remember seeing her at the Musain, but he couldn't remember why or when. As he surveyed her from a far off and diverted distance, Combeferre looked at her long brown skirt, tiny waist and large boots. The hat on top of her head barely did anything to shield her from the sun, and Combeferre could see faint traces of mud covering her cheeks and neck. He thought of the Musain and why she would be there of all places, and instantly thought of Marius. Marius! She was Marius' shadow, the girl who followed him around. He couldn't remember her name, however. He recalls Marius telling them all one day, gaining the attention of all Les Amis and introducing them to his 'dearest friend-'

"Combeferre, if you were going to stop you could have at least told me and spared me the utter embarrassment of walking alone and talking-". He guessed Enjolras saw that Combeferre was not paying the slightest attention to his complaining (in the back of his mind, Combeferre wished he could have seen Enjolras' look of confusion as he looked around and realised he had been starting a conversation with nobody). "What are you looking at?"

Combeferre pointed to the couple, watching as the man in the top hat was leaning dangerously close to the girl as she glared at him and attempted to move her face away.

"Is that Éponine?"

He looked at his friend. How could Enjolras remember the girl's (Éponine's) name, when he couldn't? He couldn't dwell on that fact much, though, as he saw his friend's face. His face looked momentarily awed at the sight of her, his face completely stilling, his mouth opening a few centimetres. His usually hard and stoic eyes flashed abruptly, contrasting from wonderment to a wild, furious gaze. His face turned fiery and Combeferre stood in bemusement as Enjolras darted between people and stormed towards the couple. Combeferre was confused; he didn't even know that Enjolras knew Éponine existed, barely even considered the thought that he might know her well.

He followed the orator directly to them, watching from behind Enjolras as the blond stood next to them. The couple were talking quietly, but it was obvious that what they were saying was far from intimate, with the sneer on the man's face and the hatred in Éponine's eyes. Éponine and the man didn't register that they were there until Enjolras spoke in a loud, commanding tone.

"Let her be."

Both of their heads immediately clipped to the side, Éponine looking almost afraid of the two of them, the man (why did he not know his name?) definitely glaring at them. Neither of them said anything.

"Leave her alone." Enjolras stood at his tallest height, his shoulders pushed back and his head high. His voice was hard and commanding as he attempted to intimidate (why would he try and intimidate this young man though?) the raggedy boy.

"Who the hell are you?" The man sneered at Enjolras. It almost seemed as though they hadn't noticed Combeferre was there, although with the glare Enjolras was receiving right now, he was quite content to not be a part of it.

"I am Enjolras, and I am politely requesting that you leave Éponine alone."

The man blinked at Enjolras. He turned his head to Éponine. "How do you know him?"

"I just-"

Enjolras interrupted. "That doesn't matter, what matters is the fact that Éponine needs to come with us." Combeferre looked confusedly at the blond. When had they arranged this?

"Why is that?" The man in the hat questioned with a raised brow.

"We have a meeting." Enjolras said pointedly, nodding his head slightly in confirmation.

"Oh! You're one of those bourgeois lads that 'Ponine sucks up to!" He exclaimed, keeping his arms near Éponine's waist and securely locked in. Turning to look at Éponine, he smiled cockily at her. "Really, Ep', am I not enough? Do you need to find well-to-do pretty boys to feed off of now?"

"Montparnasse." She hissed into his face, her eyes darting around.

"Éponine? Shall we go?" Enjolras said loudly, putting his arm out for her to take, the gentleman he was (he could've sworn he saw Enjolras give the boy, Montparnasse, a conceited smirk).

Éponine tried to move, but Montparnasse's arms were in her way. "Nuh-uh. Sorry, pretty boy, 'Ponine here has some work to do today."

"'Parnasse, leave it. I'll do it, don't worry." She pushed at his arms gently and, to Combeferre's surprise, Montparnasse actually released his hold on her. "I'll find you later, okay?" She said, walking towards himself and Enjolras, brushing past them gingerley, Enjolras' gaze following her.

Enjolras turned and glared at the man before spinning around and catching up with Éponine as she walked down the road. Combeferre watched the two of them in confusion- and partial annoyance, since they had completely forgotten that he was there. He followed them resentfully, childishly scraping his feet along the ground and glaring at the pavement. He was still trying to keep up with them, though, so when he looked up to check they were still there, he saw Enjolras' hand laid tenderly on Éponine's back, guiding her in the direction of the café.

The meeting was admittedly tedious. Yes, he was proud of Enjolras' long-winded speech and had clapped and cheered at the appropriate times, but after the blond had gotten down from the table, the evening had been filled with random outbursts from Grantaire (who had taken a shine to Éponine actually, as the two were talking quietly and sniggering together), orders from Enjolras (he had written approximately five draft letters in the span of an hour and a half), and quiet singing from Jehan and Courfeyrac (the latter's singing tending to be louder and more boisterous).

"Combeferre, have you finished yet?"

He turned to look in the direction of the voice. Enjolras was stood there, his eyebrows raised, standing just beside his table.

"Yes. Well, nearly- I mean-"

He was cut off by a sudden sound of rambunctious laughter from the small table in the corner where Éponine and Grantaire were sat. Both his and Enjolras' heads snapped towards them, seeing them both huddled close together and smirking at each other. After about five seconds of wondering what had caused the pair to crack up, Combeferre turned back to Enjolras, only to find him still staring at the table. He had a transfixed expression on his face, and he seemed to be in deep thought.

"Enjolras?"

"Hmm?" The man replied, though didn't take his eyes off of the pair.

"The letter...?" He trailed off, attempting to prompt a response from their leader.

"Oh, yes. Yes. Okay, have you finished it?" He turned back to him with a curious expression.

"Uh, no. I told you, it's nearly finished, but-"

"That's fine. Take as much time as you need, as long as it's finished by the end of the night." He nodded at Combeferre before turning around and striding back to his own table, settling down and picking up a new piece of parchment and a quill.

Combeferre decided to sit and watch the blond man for a while, wondering what had caused him to leave so quickly. The last time Combeferre had not finished a letter in due time, Combeferre had received a lecture about deadlines and how he would not stand for procrastination. Turning back to attempt his letter again, he sighed. He sat back in his chair again and thought about what could be the matter with Enjolras. He must be ill, he thought with a shake of his head. He was always working too hard, maybe it had finally caught up with him.

He had finished his letter in record timing, only about five minutes after Enjolras had walked away. So, gathering up the parchment and turning to share the news with the leader, he stood up. However, as he saw their leader, he stopped in his tracks. He was hunched over, pen in his hands, parchment sat on the table. To someone who didn't pay much attention to Enjolras' characteristics and traits, Enjolras would have looked like he was writing furiously. But, as Combeferre looked at his blue eyes, he noticed that their destination was not on the paper, but that his head was slightly tilted, and his gaze was resting on the small table in the back corner. Switching his gaze towards Grantaire and Éponine, he saw that they weren't doing anything important. In fact, Grantaire seemed to be asleep. Éponine, on the other hand, was leaning gracefully against the window pane, her eyes skimming the outside, curled up on the seat.

Looking back at Enjolras, realising he wasn't going to pay attention to Combeferre any time soon, he shook his head and sighed. Sitting down at his table, he placed his letter down and thought about what the diagnosis of Enjolras' illness could be.

After careful deliberation of over two days, Combeferre resulted to ask Joly. The symptoms of some weird illness were escalating quickly. Over the past couple of days, Combeferre had caught Enjolras staring off into the distance, daydreaming about something; smiling at random times, commonly at times where nothing was happening and he was just thinking, and becoming uncharacteristically shifty at the Musain, looking up every time the door opened. He was becoming more and more distracted each day.

Joly had a lot of experience with medicine, as did Combeferre, but he needed a second opinion, naturally. He had come to the conclusion of influenza, which, in Enjolras' case didn't seem the most possible, as he didn't look tired and he didn't have a noticeable fever. But Enjolras was obviously an exception, he was different, his symptoms could range off.

So, Combeferre decided to corner Joly at the Musain. The whole group was there (except Marius, but that had become a regular occurrence), and were all gathered around seperate tables. Joly had been given the task of making pamphlets that they would send out later in the week. He seemed to be concentrating, but Combeferre deemed this rare case much more important.

"Joly," Combeferre sat down next to the doctor, "I need to ask your opinion on something."

Joly looked up at Combeferre, before nodding his head slightly. "Yes?"

He snapped his head towards their leader. "Look at Enjolras." He commanded.

Joly followed his order, looking at the man who was writing frantically on some parchment. His hear was dishevelled, and he appeared to be focusing entirely on the work, which currently didn't work well in proving Combeferre's point.

"Does he look ill to you?"

Joly kept surveying Enjolras. "No, not really. He looks fine."

Combeferre shook his head. "No, no. I've been watching him these past couple of days and the symptoms are never ending."

Just then the door slammed open. Marius rushed in happily, Éponine trailing behind him with a smile. Simultaneously, Enjolras' head popped up and focused on the girl, his eyes moving around with her as she followed Marius towards a table.

Combeferre watched as Enjolras' eyes never lost the girl. "Joly, look at him now. He's staring at people, he is obviously delusional."

Joly stared at the blond man. "What?"

"He's staring at Éponine. Surely that means he is ill, he keeps getting distracted by random things."

Joly kept quiet for a while. Combeferre wondered what he could be thinking about- surely the answer was obvious. Enjolras should be given strict orders to stay in bed so he could ride the illness out. Joly of all people should know that.

"You said he keeps getting distracted," Combeferre nodded, "could you give me some examples?"

Combeferre had enough examples to last a life time, so he chose only a few. "Well, as you just saw, he keeps looking up when people enter the room- but when he sees who they are he usually sighs and looks back at his work. Then there was this time when he-"

"Have you noticed these happenings going on when a certain person is near him?" Joly interrupted him, the doctor's eyes still on Enjolras.

"... Well, I did have this theory."

"Go on."

"I saw Éponine coughing a few weeks back. I think maybe she could have passed an illness onto Enjolras."

Joly started laughing. "So you think Éponine has given Enjolras an illness?"

"I am certain of it, yes." Combeferre nodded.

"Well, from the looks of things, you are right." Combeferre smiled. "About one thing." Combeferre's smile dropped. "Éponine has given Enjolras something, only it is not influenza or the common cold. It is, in fact, something good... Or bad, considering which way you look at it." Joly smiled at Combeferre, picked up his paper and coat, and started to walk off. He turned around. "Maybe you should ask him." His eyes held mischief and he looked as though he knew something Combeferre did not, which was preposterous as he had known Enjolras for much longer than Joly.

He set his eyes on Enjolras. He had gone back to his work, but he had moved the direction of his chair. Actually, his chair was facing the table where Éponine and Marius were talking to each other (well, Marius was talking at Éponine who just kept smiling at him). Every now and again, Enjolras would sneak a glance at Éponine and Marius. So it was something to do with Éponine.

Now, Combeferre wasn't the best of persons concerning women. If what Joly presumed was right, then Combeferre would need to find out about Éponine and what she could have done. He would have to ask Courfeyrac.

There were more signs. More things that could indicate Enjolras' illness towards Éponine. He didn't seem physically ill, no. There were no runny noses, or fevers, which baffled Combeferre. And whenever Joly saw him, he always smirked in his direction.

About an hour ago, when it was only him and Enjolras sat in the café waiting for everyone else to join, Enjolras had abruptly asked him whether he had seen Éponine today. Truthfully, he had replied that no, he had not. Enjolras had nodded, then gone back to reading. Once again, he had unexpectedly asked whether he thinks Éponine would show up at the meeting tonight. Combeferre said he didn't know, watching as the leader deflated slightly and went back to his book.

It was peculiar, to say the least.

The meeting was in full swing now. Éponine hadn't shown up, but the rest of the group had. Marius had even arrived on time, which admittedly surprised them all. Enjolras had been glaring at Marius more than usual tonight, dismissing everything he said bitterly. Enjolras has been tense all night, however, and, besides his speech, had remained silent to everyone.

He spotted Courfeyrac in the corner, talking to Jehan. Deciding that he could have Jehan's opinion on this matter as well, he strode over to the them. They seemed to be having a light hearted conversation, so Combeferre sat down at their table and waited for them to notice his presence.

"Combeferre, hello." Courfeyrac replied in a haughty tone. "What is it you require?"

"I need your thoughts on something." He addressed to both of them.

Jehan leaned in. "Is it to do with Enjolras?" He whispered.

Combeferre spluttered. "Yes! I mean- how-"

Courfeyrac jumped in. "Joly told us."

"And we think it's about time it happened anyway." Jehan smiled gently.

"What?"

"Enjolras and Éponine." Courfeyrac said matter-of-factly.

"That she has infected him?"

Courfeyrac looked at him strangely. "That's a weird way to say it."

Jehan interrupted. "Combeferre, we think it could be good for Enjolras. It might be exactly what he needs. Plus, it's so romantic." He fawned a bit, Courfeyrac nodding beside him.

Combeferre's eyes darted between them. "I don't think we are talking about the same thing."

"Well, what are you talking about?" Courfeyrac questioned.

"Éponine has given Enjolras an illness. He is delusional, thoughtless, distracted. And it's Éponine who has given it to him. This will not be good for the impending revolution." Combeferre's temper was rising. The things he did for Enjolras.

They both looked stunned. Until a soft smile made its way onto Jehan's face slowly. "Combeferre. I know you and Enjolras are very close, maybe you should ask Enjolras himself."

Combeferre nodded, settling his eyes on the man in question from across the room. Once again, he didn't seem to be focusing at all on his work. He would ask him tonight, when everyone has gone, he decided.

Éponine showed up at the last minute. The group had just piled out when she walked quietly through the door. It was only him and Enjolras left, and they had both sat down on the middle table with their own respective books.

The door had creaked open and Éponine had entered. She was stood just beside the door, her arms wrapped in front of her stomach. Enjolras' head snapped up and, upon seeing who was there, he stood up quickly, becoming off balance for a few seconds before settling himself embarrassedly. He had a startled look of wonderment on his face. "Éponine." He said softly.

"Has everyone left?" She said shyly.

"Yes." Enjolras replied gently, nodding his head almost imperceptibly.

"Oh." She stopped. "Even Monsieur Marius?"

Enjolras' face dropped slightly. "I'm afraid so."

She nodded. She looked at Combeferre, but aimed her question at Enjolras."What are you doing?"

"Uh- we- reading." He waved his arms over the table in a disastrous attempt to show her what they were doing.

"Can I join in?" Enjolras smiled at her.

"You can read?" Combeferre didn't mean it to come out so rudely, he had expected his voice to be a lot softer and kinder.

Enjolras turned to glare at him, looking at his as though he had just murdered Lamarque and proclaimed Napoleon was the best.

Éponine chuckled, and both of their attentions snapped back to the girl. "Surprising, I know." She said walking towards them. "Mind if I sit?" She raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras immediately nodded his head. "No, of course not. Go ahead, please." He smiled at her and seemed relieved when she did in fact take a seat. He unceremoniously dropped back into his seat as well, his gaze still stuck on Éponine, who looked quite awkward.

"Well..." Éponine trailed off.

"Yes?" Enjolras smiled back at her.

Éponine just looked at him, smiled, then looked back down, picking at her nails.

"How are you, mademoiselle?" Combeferre asked politely, sick of the quiet.

"I am well, Monsieur. And yourself?" She replied, smiling.

"As am I." He nodded. He tried to start a conversation, he did.

"How about you, Monsieur Enjolras?"

"I am great, thank you, mademoiselle Éponine."

To Combeferre's surprise, she glared at Enjolras. "What have I told you about that?"

Enjolras looked taken aback. "Oh, I apologise, madem- I mean, Éponine. Sorry." He smiled at her. "But, you do realise that you did the same thing?"

She smiled at him. "I thought I'd caught you out." She giggled at him.

"Never." He didn't let his eyes wander from hers. Combeferre admittedly felt left out, like a third wheel.

Just then, the door burst open. Marius rushed through the door, stopping as he saw the three of them. "Oh." He muttered to himself. "Éponine, there you are! I completely forgot about our walk, I do apologise." He bowed his head, smiling profusely.

Éponine didn't stand up, only smiled at him. "Never mind, I'm having fun with these two anyway."

"Oh, but I really thought we could..." Marius trailed off.

"Thought we could...?" She attempted, smiling at him still.

"I really enjoy our evening walks, 'Ponine." He blushed.

She laughed at him. "Of course you do." She turned back to Enjolras and Combeferre. "You don't mind if I leave, do you?"

When Enjolras didn't answer, he replied. "No, not at all."

She smiled at him, avoiding Enjolras' gaze. "I'll see you later then." She stood up and walked over to Marius. He held out his arm for her, which she willingly took, smiling up at him. They walked out of the door without so much as a backwards glance.

He looked at Enjolras. He was glaring at the door, his eyes looking murderous. "What's wrong?" Enjolras snapped his eyes back to him, and only a bit of the anger dissipated from them.

"Nothing." He turned his head from Combeferre pointedly, looking like a spoilt child, before looking at his book angrily.

Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Enjolras."

"Combeferre." Enjolras mimicked childishly in a tone that was way to high to be considered masculine.

They stayed in silence for about a minute, Combeferre watching Enjolras and Enjolras staring at his book.

"Why would you do that?" Enjolras exclaimed.

"Do what?" Combeferre asked.

"Encourage them going for an 'evening walk together'." He, once again, imitated a very bad high voice, but his voice dripped with disgust.

"Because Éponine obviously wanted to go with Marius." He tried to be rational.

He crossed his arms. "But Combeferre. You know how much I..." He mumbled the ending of the sentence.

"Know how much you... What?" Combeferre prompted. Was childishness a symptom?

He scrunched his shoulders up."Like her." He mumbled again.

"What?"

He dipped his head down. "Like her." He said with conviction.

Understanding dawned on him. Oh, so he wasn't ill. He was infatuated. Oh. That changed things.

"No, actually, I didn't know that." Combeferre said evenly.

Only his eyes moved up to him. "How did you not know?"

"You never told me."

"It was obvious."

"Not to me. Why didn't you tell me?" Combeferre was a little bit hurt. He had told Enjolras when he had his first crush, why would Enjolras not return the tradition?

"It's embarrassing." He had gone back to mumbling, and his face was going red.

"How so?"

"Because she's in love with someone else! Obviously I have no chance. There's no point in even trying." He ran a hand through his hair. "Imagine how stupid I would look if I told everyone."

"Enjolras, that shouldn't matter." Enjolras glared at him. "Have you told her?"

"No. Kind of. Yes. A little bit. I inferred it last night."

Woah, what? Last night? When had they met up last night?

"Last night?" His voice came out scandalised, but he was really just curious.

"Yes, last night. Some nights- well, most nights- I stay up and walk around the city. Usually we end up bumping into each other, sometimes I find her, sometimes she finds me. We end up walking along the Seine together, sometimes in silence, sometimes just talking." He was now staring at the table, a small smile on his face.

"What about?"

"Nothing, anything. My past, her past, our dreams."

"How did you tell her you liked her?"

"I just... She was crying. Apparently, Marius had been a specific jerk that day, going on and on about his darling Cosette, so she was upset. I found her sat next to the Seine, just watching the water. I sat down next to her and hugged her, and she eventually told me what was wrong when she had stopped crying."

"Then what happened?" He had caught his attention fully now.

"She was saying that nobody would ever love her, that she was destined to marry that Montparnasse idiot, and become like her mother." He sighed. "Obviously, I told her differently. I said that there will be someone who loves her. She might not see it now, but she will some day. That maybe love is right in front of her, and she just can't see it." He looked at Combeferre. "Which is true, you know, since she's in love with Marius so much, she can't see that I'm stood right there waiting for her."

"Oh. So do you-"

"I'm in love with her. I'm in love with her and I don't know what to do about it. I'm not Courfeyrac or Jehan, I don't have expertise in this area. The only love I've ever known is the love for my country. How am I supposed to use that experience when showing my love for Éponine?"

"You love her?"

"Yes. Undoubtedly."

Combeferre was silent for a moment. "Wow, I was way off."

Enjolras looked confused. "What?"

"I thought you were ill!"

"Ill?" Enjolras repeated.

"Yes. I thought Éponine had given you some type of illness that was making you delusional and empty minded. It never occurred to me that you were acting the same way Marius did every day."

Enjolras looked extremely offended. "How dare you compare me to such-"

"I'm just so shocked." He put his hands up to stop Enjolras. "It all makes sense. How could I have been so blind?"

"I don't know. It's pretty obvious when Marius does it." Enjolras had gone back to sulking, his arms now again folded over his chest.

Disclaimer: if I owned Les Misérables, I wouldn't have had to write a disclaimer, would I?


End file.
